


I Could Think Of A Million Places I Would Rather Be (So Long As I’m With You)

by Ourladyofresurrection



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale loves Crowley, Crowley loves Aziraphale, Crowley loves ducks, Fluff, M/M, Prompt: “I could think of a million places I’d rather be right now”, and “why does anyone have to be naked?!”, from tumblr, request!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ourladyofresurrection/pseuds/Ourladyofresurrection
Summary: Prompt! From @exquisitelytenaciouspangolin on Tumblr: “I could think of a million places I’d rather be right now” and “Why does anyone have to be naked?!”In which Crowley discovers there are certain perks to waking up early with Aziraphale.





	I Could Think Of A Million Places I Would Rather Be (So Long As I’m With You)

“I could think of a million places I’d rather be right now,” Crowley grumbled under his breath, nursing a steaming cup of coffee— black, of course, between his palms.

Aziraphale smiled over at him from his place on the bench, adjacent to his demonic friend, “Oh, come on, Crowley, it’s not as if I’m making you bathe in holy water!”

He frowned, “Look at me, Angel! I’m drinking out of a 100% recyclable cup— I wouldn’t be surprised if this coffee was fair-trade too!”

An unbearable, smiling silence.

“Aw, hell, it is, isn’t it?”

“Crowley, you know you don’t have to act all tough,” his friend smiled at him, frustratingly bright, “it’s only you and I...”

He opened his mouth to protest, go off about how he most certainly wasn’t nice. But the words died on his tongue as Aziraphale gently patted his balled up fist.

He settled for a weak, “ _Whatever_ ,” and tried not to show he was practically combusting under the gentle touch of Aziraphale.

He was fire and brimstone, something to be feared, someone who had fallen from their reign in Heaven and had every reason to do anything and everything in the name of evil. But he was only so strong. Even the most feared demons would crumble under the touch of an angel, of his angel.

“It’s far too early to be outside, angel, the sun hasn’t even risen yet, and I hardly got eight hours of sleep!”

“My dear boy, you do know you could just ‘miracle’ your sleepiness away— not that you should be experiencing it in the first place, angels don’t sleep.”

“I’m no angel,” he drawled, sipping his coffee, “and I could ‘miracle’ a lot of things to fit my wants right now, doesn’t mean I’ll do it.”

Aziraphale cocked his head, “Why, Crowley, we’re in a beautiful park, surrounded by nature! What more could you possibly want?”

“I’d prefer not to wear pants this early, for starters, so I would ‘miracle’ those away for sure.”

“Crowley! That’s...crass,” the angel flushed, scandalized by the notion of wearing less than three layers, let alone none.

“I could ‘miracle’ your pants away if you want,” he added, smiling over the rim of his coffee cup as he took another lazy sip as if he hadn’t just half given his angel a heart attack.

“Heavens, Crowley! No! Why does anyone have to be naked?” he smoothed down his clothes primly, in some valiant, but ultimately useless effort to cleanse the air of whatever sordid direction this conversation had taken a turn to.

Crowley just smiled, shaking his head, “Because it’s fun, angel. Live a little.”

“If that is what living entails, I most definitely will not!”

A certain silence fell over them, Aziraphale looking remorseful and Crowley as nonplussed as you might expect a demon to be, sparing amused glances up at the angel every once in a while.

“Besides,” he cleared his throat, tentatively sipping the foam off of his chai latte, tongue flicking up to catch the cream that had brushed against his lips, “the sun is rising now, isn’t that a beautiful sight?”

Crowley looked toward the East, where the fiery white sphere was peeking over the horizon, making its way to the top of the sky, slowly reaching its zenith. There it would be hung, over the park, sending prismatic beams of light tumbling down like those crystalline chandeliers hung at the Ritz.

Crowley always thought those were a bit overkill.

The sky was tinged orange and yellow, like those oil paintings Aziraphale marveled over in the many art movements over the course of history, his awe at this landscape nothing short of those times.

He shifted, stretching out on the bench, “Meh, I always liked the night better...the stars.”

Aziraphale looked over at him, smiling, the Sun illuminating his form, casting a golden hue over his face, pale blue eyes looking endless in the light, “My dear boy, the Sun is also a star, you know.”

“‘Course...’ course I knew that,” he murmured, gaze trapped in Aziraphale’s eyes, which were much more enticing than the sunrise.

For some reason, Aziraphale kept his gaze equally trained on Crowley, as if he too, saw something more awe-striking than the Sun.

“Angel,” he started, reaching out one hand.

“Ducks!” Aziraphale blurted out all of a sudden.

Crowley screwed his eyes shut, before meeting the angel’s once again, confusedly, “What about ducks?”

“Over there!” he pointed, grinning enthusiastically.

He followed his gaze over to a small clearing near the pond where baby ducklings were nestled happily in the grass, some especially brave ones waddling over in their direction, quacking all the while.

Crowley felt his heart burst for the second time in the last half hour.

“Oh, how lovely!” Aziraphale gushed, as one bumped against his ankle affectionately, reaching down to cradle it in his lap, between his palms, “Look, Crowley!”

Crowley grimaced at the adorable yellow ball of fluff, black eyes just peeking over Aziraphale’s fingers, letting out a single, offbeat _‘quack’._

“Pathetic. Can’t even quack right.”

The duck let out another _‘quack,’_ this time, sounding almost indignant as if he was capable of understanding the insult. The angel just smiled up at him fondly, offering him over.

“Crowley, would you like to hold it? I know how much you love ducks—“

“No!” he shouted, probably a little too loudly, but the duckling just cocked its head, as if he wasn’t a bloody demon, for somebody’s sake!

Aziraphale mimicked the duckling, looking up inquisitively at him. Crowley flushed.

“I mean...I’m not very good at handling...soft things.”

“My dear, you handle me just fine,” he grinned as if he hadn’t just shattered Crowley’s entire world with one sentence. The bastard.

“Here,” he said, placing Crowley’s coffee cup down on the pavement and gently placing the ball of fluff into his outstretched palms, gently folding his fingers around the creature.

Crowley stared at the duckling. The duckling stared up at Crowley.

“Angel, what do I do with it?”

Aziraphale, already cooing to other, more shy, ducklings, seemingly trying to cajole them over, smiled reassuringly at him. He sure smiled a lot.

“You’ve got it, my dear. Just...talk to it. Pet it. The duck doesn’t know any better!”

Crowley looked at the duckling. The duckling looked back at Crowley, “No, angel, this duck definitely knows something. It’s...judging me.”

Aziraphale didn’t respond, too transfixed by the other creatures making their way closer to him, offering them bites of his scone, so it seemed.

Crowley, helpless and very uncomfortable, tentatively stroked a finger down its downy feathers, “What are you looking at?”

The duckling just quacked. He raised it to his eye level, nose to beak, with ample space in between the two. Then, he snarled:

“I’m made of goddamn fire and brimstone, duckling. I’m a demon, I’m not nice, I’m never nice, nice is a four letter word, I—“

He was cut off as the duckling nuzzled against his hand, settling in with an unceremonious fall back on its behind, gazing up at Crowley with big eyes.

He would never admit it, but at that moment, something inside Crowley broke. If you looked deep enough into his eyes, you could see that they were tearing up slightly. He cradled it closer to his chest when Aziraphale turned around.

“Oh! Crowley, glad to see you’ve figured it out,” he said as if Crowley hadn’t just reconsidered his entire life’s meaning in the span of five seconds, beside him.

“You know, this one reminds me of you,” he said fondly, glancing down at a greyish looking, timid duckling who stood a foot away from Aziraphale.

“What? That one? It looks miserable!” Crowley said, as defensively as one could muster with a duckling nuzzling against his cheek.

“No!” Aziraphale reprimanded him, holding out a hand, softly chanting encouraging things to the little duckling as it tentatively inched forward, “see, it’s not motivated by food.”

“Hmph,” Crowley frowned, ignoring the twinge in his chest as the duckling finally seated itself in his patient, steady grip.

“See?” Aziraphale smiled, nuzzling his cheek against the duckling, “just needs a little love.”

Crowley didn’t know what to say to that. He was never good at analyzing subtext— that was Aziraphale’s thing, but it suddenly seemed like they weren’t just talking about ducks anymore.

“Angel—“ he questioned softly.

Aziraphale just smiled, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Crowley’s flushing cheek, “Can you still think of a million places you’d rather be?” he asked, eyes glimmering amusedly.

_No_ , Crowley thought, as Aziraphale’s knuckles brushed over his own, _not even one._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this work, feel free to check out my tumblr @yourlocalshaniac (main) and @topmecrowley (good omens side blog)!
> 
> Feel free to request fics in the comments!  
> 😇💗


End file.
